An unseasonal shawl

We are experiencing a summer with actual real live sunshine. It has brought waterpistol-paddling pool-jugs of Pimms meteorological joy. Back in June, before it began, it was still too cold to venture out without a coat, mittens and long johns worn under jeans. I was still in wintry crafting mode and buoyed by my modest cowl success using Kat's design, I decided that I would like to crochet a shawl. I don't mean a triangular scarf with delusions of grandeur. I mean a proper full-sized warmth-bringing shawl that Miss Pole might wear if her fire went out unexpectedly. I tweeted my shawl plans. Several people, knowing my beginner crocheter status, suggested, very kindly and gently, that it may have been foolhardy. 'Try some wristwarmers. 'Try a dishcloth.' I'm afraid to say that this made me all the more determined.

I love the way that treble crochet, with its tallish minirows of three loops, can be combined with chain stitches to make lacy, cobwebby holes. I wanted to make some of this lacy stuff. Before I learned to crochet I would stare at a crochet shawl I own (bought in Mango in 2004) trying to work out how on earth it was made. It seemed to me to be a form of fascinating woolly calculus. So, when I found this on ravelry I knew I would have to give it a try. It is essentially a gargantuan semi circular doily with pretty scallopy bits made from sets of seven treble crochet stitches. 

I decided against mohair though (suggested in the pattern) - it's a bit too floofy for me. Instead I continued my odyssey through the deliciously soft, dreamily self-marling colourways of Manos silk blend. These yarns are spun by artisans in the rural communities of Uruguay. Each skein comes with a label signed by the woman who handspun and dyed it. Wonderful. This time I chose Europa (colourway 9695), named after one of the more beautiful moons of Jupiter.

This area of Europa, called Conamara Chaos, is surely the inspiration for this yarn. Goodness it's stunning (both the moon and the yarn). I have a short crafting attention span but the colours change every few stitches in a skein of Manos, turning each of those stitchy scallops into a tiny, beautifully subtle rainbow. The marling keeps my eyes happy and my brain interested.

A wonderful thing has happened during this project. For the first time since I made my first beaded necklace in 1998 as a brief distraction from a rather stressy PhD, I have found a craft that I reach for to relax. I look forward to the next row and to seeing the muted colours shift subtly as I make the stitches. Before the school holidays began I admit to snatching a minute here and there in the sometimes slightly fraught time before dashing to the schoolbus. This is a sign that it is the crafty equivalent of sniffing a bit of lavender.

I haven't yet finished the shawl but it's grown rapidly from something that would fit a guinea pig to something that just about reaches around my shoulders. I need more cosiness though so I'm continuing, despite the heatwave. I find it's a soothing way to pass the time whilst the little ones are scooting, making lego palaces or seeing how long it takes for an ice cube to melt in the sun (approx 17 minutes). I'm fairly sure that this project will be done by the time the weather gets slightly chillier in September. It's a reason to look forward to the (whispering here) Autumn.